Reactions
by amber-chick
Summary: Tags to Bury Your Dead. Series of oneshots. They all thought Tony was dead. They took things to help remember him by. What was going through their heads from when they saw his car blow up, to taking mememtos, to discovering he was alive. Chapter 6: Gibbs
1. Ziva

_Ugh. Just (literally just) got hit with a stomach bug of some kind... and yet I am still posting a new story. Says something about me. This one is very different to all my previous ones. I decided to try a go at a different genre because this episode has always been one of my favourites and I've been wanting to explore the whole 'thought Tony was dead scenario' for a while. There will be a chapter per character (although I'm sort of hesitant over Jenny...)_

_Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS in any way, shape, or form, no matter how much I might want to. Enjoy everyone!_

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_His gun. His badge. His cell phones._

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She couldn't believe that this was happening. She couldn't believe her reaction to the fact that this was happening. She had worked in Mossad for years; raised by her father to become Metsada. She knew death as though it were an old friend. And because of this, she avoided making other friends, so as to avoid having to go through the same emotions she had when Tali had been killed. She shielded her heart, locking the steel door and throwing away the key.

Yet, in the time she had been at NCIS, she had ignored that. Despite her every intention, she had grown close to the team. They had found her key and opened the door.

She had become complacent, expecting to hear loud music when she walked down to get forensic results, to hear a whole lot of words she didn't understand when asking for technical advice, to hear long-winded stories when dealing with a dead body, to hear terse orders and reprimands from their boss that was often contradicted by the small, proud smile he gave them when he thought they weren't looking. And she had grown to expect to flirt at crime scenes with _him. _To hear pointless movie references from movies that she had actually started to watch, just so she could talk to him about it. To see the small, not obvious ways that he showed her he cared about her.

She had grown to expect to see his smile every morning.

And now she never would again.

He was gone.

It was completely unexpected.

She had come into the office because she had been worried. She had not expected to hear that Tony had been working an undercover operation for the last few months. She was definitely not expecting to see Tony's car get blown up – while she was watching it.

She was meant to be his partner, damn it. She was meant to watch his back, like he always did for her.

But he hadn't told her about this assignment.

And now he was dead.

She would never hear another damned inane movie reference; never hear another Sean Connery impersonation in that charming way that only he could pull off.

She'd never see his smile again.

She would never see Tony again.

Her eyes were glittering with unshed tears as she walked down the final few steps from the MTAC balcony and into their squadroom.

It had been a while since she had cried, she noted dispassionately, looking at the desk that would never again have a charming federal agent looking for leads as he did the job that he loved.

She blinked back the tears as she slowly approached the desk. She needed to stay strong; they had to find the bastard that did this to their Tony. She couldn't afford to break down now; not while the people that took him away from them were still at large. She could break down later tonight, when she was at home, alone. Maybe she would go to Tony's place. Watch one of his movies, imagining all the trivia that he would have told her had he been watching with her. Maybe.

She was staring at his desk. It seemed so… empty without Tony sitting behind it, leaning back in his chair as he joined her in their banter that so often permeated the squadroom, amusing all the agents within hearing range.

Her hand brushed against the desk that Tony always kept surprisingly neat. She looked at the paperwork that had built up since they had left the previous day. They would never be signed with the loopy signature of the senior field agent.

She looked down at the desk, knowing that she had to grab her gear and get to the crime scene, but she couldn't seem to be able to drag herself away from the desk.

She felt, irrationally, that if she left now, then Tonys things would disappear just as suddenly as the man himself had.

She looked down. There, lying on the desk, next to his inbox, where the mailman always dropped his letters, was his letter opener.

She picked it up, admiring the ornate metal and the engraved leaves that decorated it.

Decisively, she turned around, heading back to her desk to get her gear, taking the letter opener with her. She used one everyday. This way, every day, she would remember the man who had managed to worm his way into her heart so thoroughly.

She would keep a piece of him with her.

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She believed that this was the first time she had ever been so thrilled and relieved to see somebody. When the elevator doors opened and she saw Tony again, her heart had filled with joy, something that hadn't happened in many, many years.

When that bastard Kort had threatened him, she did not hesitate to put her gun to his head. She had just gotten him back. That bastard was not taking him away again.

Later that day, she ended up giving him back his letter opener. She was slightly embarrassed by the fact that he knew how sentimental she had been, but it was overwhelmed by the fact that he was back. That she would have someone to flirt with, to watch her back as only he could. That he was _alive. _

And she would never take that fact for granted again.

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_Let me know what you thought!_


	2. McGee

_Glad to know you're enjoying this. This chapter was probably one of the harder ones of this story, since McGee was probably most in denial and we weren't told whether he took anything, so I had to try and think of something without ruining the thought of him still in denial. But I think it turned out pretty well and the item is still symbolic._

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"_I never believed you were dead. Even Ziva gave up on you. But I didn't." _

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He was in shock. He felt completely detached as he moved down into the squadroom after seeing Tony's car get blown up all around him; on every screen in MTAC.

Tony couldn't have died. Tony was larger then life, one of the only constants that there really was on the job. Even Gibbs had left them behind, 'retiring' to Mexico. But Tony had still been there, teasing them, stepping up to the role that had been thrusted upon him so suddenly.

He had never really entertained the notion of the senior agent _actually _dying. For goodness sakes, he had survived the damn pneumonic plague, and lived through an explosion not even a fortnight later!

Looking at the many situations Tony had lived through, it just seemed wrong that his beloved car would be his final downfall. It was wrong. Tony wasn't meant to die. He was meant to survive against insurmountable odds, but still be there, being their second in command, giving them advice that sounded like teasing but, in the abstract, was good, sound advice (and had he gone through some embarrassing situations before he had learnt to look between the lines!)

He hesitated in front of Tonys desk on his way to his own desk to get the keys for the truck. Tony's desk, which should have held the smiling, joking, federal agent. But it didn't. Tony wasn't there. But he would be. Because there was no way that Tony could be dead. No way that he had survived so much, gone through so much heartache, just to die on a normal day, probably driving to meet up with his girlfriend.

His girlfriend. Probably the one woman that it looked like Tony was actually going to marry. But now… No, he would still have the chance. He had to keep repeating that to himself, because Tony would be – _had to be _fine. He didn't know if he would be able to handle it.

Losing Kate had been one thing. Losing Tony would be another. For one thing, he had barely known Kate two years. He'd known Tony close to five, now. And for another, Tony was the one who had taken him under his wing. Tony had been the one to claim him as his 'Probie'. And as annoyed as he sometimes was at the nickname, he did know that it really was almost like an affectionate petname.

He looked at an innocent magazine lying on the shelves behind the desk. He gave a chuckle when he saw that it was GSM; he ignored the fact that his laugh was shaky and that his eyes were wet.

Tony had been trying to cut back on the mens magazines lately, ever since he and Jeanne had really gotten serious. But while he'd gotten rid of any other ones, he still occasionally looked through GSM.

He looked at the magazine, remembering many conversations that had been born because of the magazine; or because of similar issues. He could remember with vivid clarity the many times Tony had told him that he should become 'more of a man'. Of course, reading GSM was apparently an integral part of this.

He laughed at the memory of those long-ago conversations (because they hadn't had one since before Gibbs had left), blinking more rapidly.

Without thinking about it, he grabbed that magazine from where it was inconspicuously lying on the shelf. Tony wouldn't care that he had it; and he felt an urge that he _had _to read it, as Tony had urged so long ago. So long ago, when the senior agent would have been _here, _teasing him and calling him Probie instead of being who knows where, in who knows what kind of condition.

He went over to his own desk, refusing to look back at Tony's, which just looked _wrong _without the larger then life senior field agent sitting behind it. He threw the magazine in his drawer, taking the opportunity to take his gun and badge out.

He looked at the magazine for another long second before closing the draw. Tony would probably tease him when he found out about it. But for once, he honestly didn't care. Because it would mean that he was alive.

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He knew that Ziva thought that he was in denial. But there had to be something, anything, that would prove that Tony didn't die in that car.

But despite his refusal to believe that Tony had been killed, he still almost collapsed from relief when Ducky told them that the body in autopsy wasn't Tony. He shuddered when he recalled the memories Ducky brought up – of the last time that Tony had well and truly come close to lying on a cold slab in the morgue. He doubted that the image of Tony coughing up blood in that isolation chamber was one that would leave him.

He viciously suppressed those memories, instead working on solving this case.

He glowered at Kort when he strode in. His attitude almost said that he had _wanted _Tony to be in that car when it blew up.

And then Tony appeared in the elevator. Even as Kort attacked him, as he, Ziva, and Gibbs held their guns at the man that dared threaten the one they had already nearly lost today… he couldn't stop grinning.

Because he was right.

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And even when he got the predicted teasing when Tony discovered his magazine missing, he still kept smiling because the senior agent was _there _to be able to tease him.

But despite the teasing, Tony still showed up at his door with pizza and beer that night, even though it was obvious the older man was still preoccupied with whatever had happened with Jeanne.

But even though he knew Tony was hurting, he was still thrilled.

Tony, the man who had taken him under his wing (no matter how rough a wing) was sitting on his couch, talking with him…

Tony was alive.

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_Again, thanks for the reviews, and let me know what you thought of this one!_


	3. Palmer

_This one was a little difficult, but still easier then I expected... Anyway, enjoy!_

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"_My American Pie coffee mug?" "Palmer." _

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Despite his choice of profession and the fact that he was assisting as a medical examiner, he didn't actually have a lot of experience with true death.

Sure, he could probably do an autopsy on his own now, and after three years interning at NCIS, he had seen many different dead bodies killed in all manner of ways.

But he'd never had to deal with it like this. Even when Kate had been killed, it hadn't affected him quite like this. Back then, he hadn't really been a part of the team. They'd never gone out for drinks or hung out outside of work like they did now.

Back then, he had been far more of an outsider.

But now he wasn't.

And unlike how it had been with Kate, he actually knew Tony. Admittedly, he was a little intimidated by the senior field agent, but he knew that the older man cared for him.

But it was because of this added closeness that this affected him far more then Kates death had. And he hadn't had to autopsy Kate. Dr Mallard had done it before he'd gotten in, obviously trying to shield him from having to cut open someone he knew.

But this time the doctor hadn't had the opportunity. They had both come in on the weekend to tie up some loose ends from a previous case.

Neither had expected to get the call saying that they had another body; so far as they knew, everybody had a very rare weekend off.

When he heard that Tony's car had exploded while they had been tracking it, he felt like he'd just been punched in the stomach. The idea that Tony, the larger then life senior agent, had been killed was a notion that he found incredibly difficult to believe.

As childish as it seemed, he had always somehow imagined the agents upstairs as being invincible. They dealt with death on a daily basis and came out on top. Tony in particular. The whole team jokingly referred to Tony as a 'walking rabbits foot'. Tony had always rejected the idea, but the joke had remained.

There were countless times over the last several years where Tony could have been killed, but each of them he got out with barely a scratch.

But this time… this time he hadn't.

For the first time in his admittedly short career, Palmer had to resist the urge to be sick at a crime scene.

Seeing a man he knew, a man that he had gone out to drinks with, a man that he knew would put his career and his life on the line for his friends, of whom he was one of, as nothing more then a charred skeleton, was far more disturbing then he could have ever have imagined it being.

When they had brought _him _(he couldn't think of the body as Tony. Tony smiled and teased them mercilessly, but always had that look in his eyes that said he liked and was proud of them) into the Navy Yard, back home – because NCIS was home for Tony, for the whole team really. They spent far more time here then they did at their actual homes – he handled the body as gently as he could possible manage. He readied the body for autopsy on the table, wincing all the while at the thought of the laughing, frat-boy-like agent having to go through an autopsy.

When Dr Mallard got there, he told the older man that he would be back in a moment, needing a moment to recollect himself. The older doctor agreed readily, most likely himself not quite ready to cut into the body of their friend.

Unconsciously, without thinking about it, he made his way upstairs to the bullpen. All the field agents from their team were still finishing off with processing the crime scene, and it was strange to see their squadroom so empty.

He felt a strange feeling in his heart as he realized that one of those desks would never be filled with its rightful owner again.

He hesitantly stepped closer, eyes skimming over the desk, noticing all the unfinished things left behind. He had to blink back tears when he noticed a picture of Tony's 'mystery girlfriend' – the pseudonym had stuck, even after they had discovered more about her. Tony had been so happy with her. Now his plans with her would never be fulfilled.

Wrenching his eyes away from the picture, his gaze landed on the small shelf which held Tony's two mugs. Tony had never really been much of a coffee drinker. The athletic man preferred tea or water, resorting to coffee during high stress situations or during very long nights at the office. The mug emblazoned with the legend of the Ohio State Buckeyes, he used for tea, and the other American Pie one, he used for coffee.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing around nervously, his mind conjuring up some vivid images of what Tony would do is he found out the autopsy gremlin had taken something from his desk.

But Tony wouldn't find out. Because Tony was dead, and he would never do anything again.

With that in mind, he grabbed the coffee mug, intending to keep it (and make sure it never broke) so that each time he had a coffee he would remember his friend who always gave everything he had to help others.

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His body was nearly sagging in relief. He never thought that he would be glad that Tony had had the plague, but in this instance he was thrilled.

Tony wasn't dead. He would still be there to intimidate the 'autopsy gremlin' with his green-eyed stare, and to be the life of the bullpen with his antics.

When, after everything had calmed down, and Tony had come down to reclaim his coffee mug, Palmer had been red-faced and stuttering, dreading what the senior agent was going to say.

Surprising, however, Tony had looked at him with understanding, and even given him a small wink… but he said nothing.

And Palmer smiled; grateful beyond belief that Tony hadn't been killed.

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_Let me know what you thought. :)_


	4. Ducky

_This was slightly difficult in trying to work out why the heck Ducky would take a stapler, of all things… But hopefully I managed to work it out well :) Enjoy, and as always, thank you so much to those that have left a review, and tell me what you thought of this one too! _

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"_Jethro… what in the world happened?"_

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The moment he chose his profession, he knew that it would be a given fact that he would have to deal with dead people. Even if he had decided to stay a Medical Practitioner, rather then an examiner, he still would have had to deal with death on a regular basis.

He had never really examined the reason that he had chosen to become an ME later in his career very much. Yet, he knew, that it was partly because of the fact that he didn't like seeing people dying. It became so much more personal when you had talked, laughed, loved with someone and then you had to see their pale, motionless body.

By becoming a medical examiner he could still be in the profession he loved, and could avoid the things he hated about it. Of course, this didn't always work. There were times when he still had to autopsy a poor person that he had known. To date, Kate had been the worst. It was always horrible to see someone so young, with their whole life ahead of them, cut down before their prime.

But now…

He was wandering through the hallways now, knowing but not wanting to admit where his destination was. He was trying to get his mind away from the burnt and charred body that belonged to the vibrant young man he had seen only a day ago.

He didn't want to think about all the dreams and hopes, the energy, the empathy, the willingness to do whatever it took to help his teammates, all quite literally disappeared in a puff of smoke.

He couldn't help but harbor a childish hope that the body didn't belong to Tony, despite the overwhelming evidence of it. He knew that McGee was refusing to believe that Tony was dead, while Ziva had resigned herself to it. Gibbs was trying to hold things together but he knew, that if forensic evidence proved it, then Gibbs would be drinking himself into a stupor tonight (or whenever they had finished the investigation, because Gibbs would not slow down until the person who murdered his protégé was dead).

He stopped at the bullpen looking around it as activity buzzed around him. No one had heard about Tony… about the car being blown up yet.

As he looked around the area, his aged mind flashed back to all the memories that had occurred here…

Tony and Kates friendly bickering. Abby and Tony going from barely tolerating each other to becoming as close as siblings. The many agents that had come through here but left, while Tony had stayed and stuck with Gibbs.

It was hard to believe that Tony had been part of the team for seven years already. It seemed not so long ago that they were working together in Baltimore.

And now… now the bright investigator that he had watched grow would never be able to help save a life again.

He looked over at Tony's desk, and his eyes slightly glimmered when he spotted the framed picture that had only just recently been put up. It showed Tony and his girlfriend, Jeanne together. He had been so looking forward to finally being able to see the young man settle down, but now he never would.

Everything he saw on the desk brought up more memories, once they would have brought him joy and happiness, now he only felt excruciating pain.

The take-out menu pinned up… he could remember the number of times they had had an argument about the young agents diet. The picture taken on Air Force One… that memory was vivid. Tony had always been a carefree person, remarkable for a man of his skill that had seen so many of the horrors that society had to offer.

He didn't know what it would be like now, going to crime scenes without a young, brilliant, vibrant investigator offering commentary in the background.

His eyes rested on the innocent little stapler lying next to one of the screens behind the desk. He gave a quiet, fond chuckle, seeing the Mighty Mouse stapler. He could remember the story behind that stapler.

It had been one of the few times that he could remember Tony actually connecting with a child. Young Suzie had only been six when her abusive father killed her mother, while she had been hiding in the closet. When NCIS had been called in, the young child had refused to talk, but Tony had managed to take her out of her shell. Then, when they had finished the case; social services had given custody to the grandparents. But Tony had struck up quite the rapport with Suzie by that point, and she had admitted that her grandparents were just as bad as her father.

With this information, Tony worked throughout the entire night to get the grandparents discredited and custody awarded to Suzies aunt. The young child had been thrilled beyond belief, and before they left, she had insisted to her aunt that they needed to get her savior something as a thank you.

The next day, Tony had come into work to see a beaming six year old holding out a Mighty Mouse Stapler. The stapler had become one of Tony's most well-treated supplies.

He picked it up, looking at it, so many years later. All the people Tony had made a difference to, and all the people he would never have a chance to.

He turned around, knowing that Palmer would probably have prepared the body by now. He took the stapler with him, intending on keeping it as a reminder to the man that had given everything he had to serve his country, and the people in it; his mind already thinking up stories about the brave and remarkable young man he had had the pleasure of working with for so short a time.

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He had always loved to study ancient diseases, it had been a fascination of his. But, when Tony had contracted Y Pestis, he had developed a severe hatred for them; the thing that had turned the eager, athletic agent into a pale, gaunt version of his former self that struggled for every breath.

But when he noticed that the body had none of the scarring that he had become accustomed to seeing on Tony's x-rays, he found he had another appreciation for them.

Because of the plague, he knew that Tony was alive. Because of the plague, he could take the darkness from Gibbs' eyes with the knowledge that his protégé was not lying on a cold slab. Because of the plague, he could return hope to the people that had become like a family sometime in those hectic years.

And, just as he had with the plague, Ducky felt insurmountable relief when Tony's amazing luck brought him back to them.

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He couldn't help but feel slightly sheepish when he attempted to return the Mighty Mouse stapler before Tony noticed it was missing. But he hoped Tony realized the reason behind his action, and by the soft smile that he got in return, he thought that perhaps the field agent did.

Later, he would get Tony down to autopsy to have a talk and perhaps drink some of that whiskey that he had been planning on having tonight to grieve. He could try and insure that something like this never happened again.

But Ducky could do that later. Because Tony was alive. And there would be plenty more stories to be made about this particular young agent.

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_Let me know what you thought :). Only two more to go…_


	5. Abby

_Well, this one has a lot of expectations, so I hope I did it justice... Thanks to all who reviewed, I appreciated them all! And I hope you enjoy the penultimate chapter... it might be a little bit confusing, as to the object she takes, but hopefully it makes sense to all you smart readers! ;)_

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"_Tell me it's not Tony."_

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She was continuously blinking back tears as she went through the evidence. She had multiple tests running and she was both hoping that it would take forever, and that the results would pop out now. She didn't know if she wanted to know… she wanted to think that Tony would come striding into her lab, in his boss-like ways, which he had never really completely dropped after Gibbs' return from Mexico.

When she had come into the office late last night as per the Directors orders, the absolute last thing she had expected was to hear that her best friend, her surrogate big brother, had been… she couldn't even think it.

Tony couldn't die. He was meant to grow up and, when Gibbs retired for good (not to Mexico), he was meant to become the boss-man and be her brown haired fox (and marry Ziva somewhere along the way). He was meant to have that life that she'd had planned out for him for years.

He was not meant to get cut down before he'd managed to reach his full potential. That happened to other agents. Not to her Tony.

She could see him now, right in front of her, leaning on the table and trying to work out what she was doing on the computer. He wasn't really quite as bad with technology as she and McGee made him out to be. He just didn't really like it, surprisingly preferring the 'old fashioned methods.' She could remember one time, way back when Gibbs had first bought this new agent in from the Baltimore PD, and she had wondered why.

Then they'd had a sniper case, and they'd been trying to work out the trajectory. She'd gotten annoyed at Tony's badgering and clueless looks at the digital reconstruction of the trajectory and had finally printed him out all the data for him to look at.

He'd told her where the bullet was fired from before the computer had.

She felt her eyes well up again, and the apparition of Tony wavered. The image had been a lot stronger when Kate had died. She didn't know whether that was a good thing or not.

She glanced up at her wall, staring at her collage of photos. Tony featured in nearly all of them. She just stared at the picture of him with his infectious smile, staring at her from the photo. He seemed to be looking into her eyes… She tore her own eyes away, swiping at them angrily.

She looked around despondently, wanting a hug. But the only hug that would help her right now was the one hug that she would probably never feel again. A hug that always made her feel safe, feeling all those muscles and able to sense the fondness the man holding her felt. She stalked into her office off the lab, going over to where she kept her futon. She grabbed the backpack that was there and opened it.

It wasn't her bag – definitely not her style to lug a bulky backpack around. Tony kept it down here, just in case he ever needed it. Like the time the entire floor had had to be evacuated due to a biological threat and they weren't allowed up for a few hours. She staunchly ignored the fact that at that particular time, he hadn't needed the bag.

She grabbed Bert from her desk and sank down slowly in the corner, clutching the soft toy to her as she slowly looked through the objects that may, when her computer started beeping, be proved to be owner-less. Her eyes were glimmering at the thought, and her images of what the bag held were blurry.

Clothes, of course. She gave a watery chuckle. She would always tease Tony about the amount of clothes he had, which seemed to exceed even her wardrobe.

She wondered vaguely what would happen to all his clothes now, entertaining the notion that maybe Tony left them all to Gibbs, as a final joke, before pushing the thought away. She didn't want to be thinking about his will, or anything like that. She wanted to think about Tony. Her Tony.

The next item she pulled out was a gun. Typical Tony, always prepared. Her thoughts were confirmed when she pulled out a spare set of keys next. She stared at them a moment, before stuffing them in her pocket. Maybe she'd go over to his apartment later… cry into his clothes, the only things left that still held his unique and comforting scent.

She sniffled again, before reaching in once more. This time she rummaged around, taking her time in picking something out. Her hand closed around something small, and she pulled it out curiously.

She recognized the small device as a replica of the USB key that Tony kept on his keychain. Staring at it for a few moments, she stood up and headed to her computer, clutching the small device as though it were a lifeline – which, to her, it was. This might just be the very last thing of Tony's making that she would ever see.

The thought filled her with fresh grief.

Plugging it in, she watched as the screen came up with autoplay.

She felt her eyes fill up again as she watched what came on. Tony had created a slideshow of photos, with pictures of when it had just been the four of them; she, Tony, Gibbs, and Ducky, to when Kate had joined, McGee, Ziva…

The time that she and Tony had pretended to make out at the Christmas Party, to see what reaction they'd get. The time she'd messed with Kate and McGee's computers to help Tony get back at them. The time Tony and Ziva had tried to teach her and McGee how to rock climb. The various times Tony had stayed at Gibbs house.

Despite the light hearted nature of the photographs, she still let out a sob as they flickered on her screen.

Some of them were pictures that she'd never seen before, of them laughing and enjoying themselves as though their lives weren't in danger every single day.

As though one moment couldn't take her best friend away from her.

But what really made her break down was the title of the slideshow.

Our Family.

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The image of Tony, skin tinged with blue only somewhat caused by the ultra violet lights, fighting for every breath, was not one she cared to remember. But she would go through it a hundred more times, because it meant that now she knew he was alive.

She would be able to hug him again.

It was the first thing she did, the moment she realized that Tony had finished with that _woman _that nearly killed her Tony. She ran up to him and hugged him, closing her eyes as she relished the feel of the man that was so much like her big brother. He was still tense, obviously worried about Jeanne.

But he was there.

He was breathing.

And later, when Tony came down (right after she'd put everything back into his backpack and returned it to its rightful place), he held out his arms to her, and Abby practically collapsed into them, holding him, tighter, longer, grateful that her Tony had come back.

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_As always, let me know what you thought! One more left, and the hardest one to write (although this was difficult)_


	6. Gibbs

_So, the final chapter. I am sorry for those that wanted me to do one on Jenny, but I honestly just can't get into her head, particularly since I really didn't like her as a character. And for those that wanted me to do one on Tony's reactions to everything, I am actually considering it, but if I do it will be posted separately as a one-shot. :)_

_So, that said, heres the one with all the expectations… Gibbs. I hope I managed to do it justice… Enjoy the final installment of Reactions, and let me know what you thought! _

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_And where the heck is DiNozzo?_

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If there was one thing he was good at, it was masking his emotions. There was only one time that he could remember really struggling to keep his mask in place; and that was when he had found out that Shannon and Kelly had been killed. Ever since then, he had simply strengthened his resolve and refused to let anyone get close enough to be able to effect him that way again.

That had changed.

As he stepped out onto the balcony over the squadroom, he found it hard to believe that just half an hour ago his only priority had been Jenny, and trying to work out why the CIA was going to such lengths to question her.

Then Jenny had appeared and told them that Tony had been part of a long term undercover op for her for months now, and that he was dating the daughter of an international arms dealer.

It had taken all he had to resist shouting at her for using one of his agents without even telling him. And not just any of his agents. She'd used Tony.

Still, even as they moved up to MTAC, and kept failing to get a hold of the younger man, the last thing he had expected to see was his seconds beloved car going up in a burst of fire worthy of a war zone.

He had sent the other two members of his team to get their gear so they could get to the scene. Jenny had gone to ensure that Metro PD didn't try to get there first; which was a good thing, since he didn't think he'd be able to handle even looking at her at this particular moment.

She had used his agent… his protégé recklessly, negligently.

And now, one of the only agents that he was proud of, and definitely the only one he trusted enough to hand his team over to when he retired… was dead.

There was no sugarcoating it.

The brilliant, vibrant investigator that he had seen such potential in way back in Baltimore was dead.

He started down the stairs slowly, knowing that he had to get his own gear before heading to the crime scene.

The crime scene that Tony's body was at.

The body that wouldn't greet him with a movie reference that this reminded him of. The body that would never make another Sean Connery impersonation; would never stay at his house and help him out with the boat.

He paused in front of his senior field agents desk, surveying the area with blurry vision, having to blink several times in order to see everything clearly.

He smiled bitterly at the array of pictures that Tony had stuck onto the side of his filing cabinet. He glanced around, and, seeing nobody there, simply moved the several steps required to get to the chair and sat down, staring at the pictures in front of him.

The pictures were all from varying time periods. Except for his childhood – the earliest picture was of his best friends in college. There were some from his years as a cop. And quite a few from his time at NCIS. There was a picture of every team that he'd had in the last seven years.

It had actually been Abby who had first realized that so far, she and Tony had, accumulatively, managed to get a picture of each of the various agents that had already come and gone within Tony's first year at NCIS. Ever since that realization, Tony had made it a habit to have at least one picture each time someone either came or left, and stick it on his filing cabinet.

There was barely any room left on that damn cabinet anymore.

He had gone through agents at what the Director had called 'an alarming rate', after Tony had joined the team. It had taken him awhile to realize that he was unconsciously comparing them to his newest, hand-picked agent.

None of them had measured up.

Gibbs smiled when he saw the picture of himself with DiNozzo and Abby. Ducky had snapped that picture, not too long before Kate had joined the team. Abby had insisted on a 'team bonding experience' and had dragged all of them along. Surprisingly, they had actually had fun, something Gibbs had seriously doubted when he had first seen all the signs to advertise the carnival.

But it had been the break they'd needed, and they had all enjoyed themselves. The picture had been taken right after he'd won both Tony and Abby stuffed bears at some stall. So far as he knew, they both still had the bears.

He stared at Tony's smiling face, looking straight through him with those expressive green eyes which told you everything if you knew how to read them.

He tore his eyes away when he could no longer bear to look into Tony's happy expression, no idea of the horrifying future that lay in wait for him.

His eyes fell on the shelf behind DiNozzo's desk, and he saw Tony's NCIS hat, along with his back-up shield and ID. Technically, it was against regulation to have more then one ID, but he knew that Tony had several he kept in a couple places just in case he'd ever need them. He did the same thing.

He picked up the shield, rubbing his thumb over it, mesmerized by it.

This shield had belonged to Tony. His protégé, that he had watched grow from a reckless, good cop to a brilliant, seasoned investigator.

Making up his mind, he stood up abruptly, placing Tony's shield and ID into his jackets breast pocket. Before he turned to get to his own desk, he also grabbed the hat lying there. He let his fingers run over the scrawling 'Property of Tony DiNozzo' written on the inside of the cap before putting it on.

It was a good reminder of the man that had wormed his way into his life and heart so thoroughly.

-----------------

At first, he had hardly been pleased when Ducky had come up to the squadroom spouting about the damn plague.

After processing the gruesome scene, he had already been hounded over and over again of the image of his vibrant senior agent screaming in agony as his car blew up around him, unable to do anything to save himself.

And now, along with those vivid images, he was reminded of seeing Tony fighting for every breath as the Y Pestis worked to destroy him from within. It was hardly an image he cared to recall. Actually, it was one he tried to repress at all times.

But then Ducky had said the man in autopsy had never had the plague.

And he felt as though a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders, feeling, for just one moment, absolute thrill at the thought that his senior field agent was still alive, before reminding himself that he still had an agent to find – and make sure that he never left his sight again.

Because he'd rather see Tony fight for breath a hundred times then have to see him with no breath at all.

--------------------

That night, he was lightly sanding the boat, paying more attention to listening to the front door then to the actual wood in front of him.

He smiled with satisfaction when he finally heard it open and shut, and heard heavy footsteps leading to the basement.

The entire team had been let off early, and he knew that Tony had probably been making the rounds to all of them, making sure they were all alright – and probably also making sure that none of them had taken anything else from his desk.

He hadn't been all that surprised when he'd discovered that the others had also taken something to remember Tony by. The senior field agent was an integral part of their lives, and the thought of things without him… well, he'd already had to go through that thought process once today.

While the others had all headed home, trying to come to term with the days events, he had prepared things. Plenty of alcohol in the basement. The spare room made up, and homemade food ready to reheat for tomorrow.

He turned around as Tony made his way down the steps, the younger man still not saying anything.

His eyes caught the NCIS hat lying on a shelf next to his service weapon. It was Tony's hat, the one he had taken earlier that day. The shield, he had managed to return before Tony had even noticed it was missing.

But the hat, he was going to keep. As a reminder.

As he turned to hand Tony the bottle of alcohol, he was struck, for the first time in a long time, with sheer gratefulness.

Because Tony was here. He hadn't died.

He was here, perhaps not smiling, but alive and breathing.

And now that Tony had finished taking care of the others, Gibbs could take care of him.

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_So what did you think? Let me know…_


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